


As cheesy as it sounds, I want to hold more than just your hand

by sherlocked221



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Music, Musical Instruments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 11:05:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9381731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlocked221/pseuds/sherlocked221
Summary: Paul's in love with John and he feels fine...Shameless song lyrics and eventual smutUPDATED!!





	

John had me sitting between his legs with his guitar in front of me like a bar on a roller-coaster, keeping me close to him. He had wanted to play a new song or something, but having me like this, he couldn't properly strum.

 

"You're a fucking irritant McCartney." He spat in my ear, but I could feel him smiling against my skin. His lips were tucked just behind my earlobe on the soft flesh of my neck and he dragged his showing teeth down my nape to rest on my shoulder. His nose now fitted in the curve there, his hot breath spreading over my bared skin. You see, I hadn't bothered with a shirt. The night was too hot and too late to think about clothing. My jogging bottoms that I thankfully kept on were sweaty, sticking to my skin, but for the sake of appearance, I did not remove them. What would Ringo or George think had they come down and seen a naked Paul sitting so close to an assumed naked John who was wearing trousers that were easily obscured by my own legs? They would think us queer. Rightfully so, of course, yet we were not thinking of coming out anytime soon, as much as we trusted our bandmates. This was a secret best kept, if a little badly kept.

 

To be kind to the musically inspired John that night, I offered to strum while he formed chords. He couldn't play a new song because he couldn't tell me how he wanted the song to be played, it was in his head, not possible to explain unless he bothered to write it down, but we could play something we both already know.

 

"oh yeah I'll… tell you something…" John begun a low, slow, a cappella version of I want to hold your hand, then gestured for me to start playing. I feathered my poised fingers down the strings of the acoustic guitar, making a satisfying E minor chord and listened to my fellow songwriter sing the next line, "I think you'll understand…" Then, now in full swing of our joint guitar playing, I sung the next bit,

 

"When I… tell you something,"

 

And for the titular line, our voices blended like melted milk and white chocolate in a slow moving mixer, "I want to hold your hand." It sounded beautiful, all mellowed out and leisurely with just the simplicity of talented voices- one higher, one a few octaves lower- and a quiet guitar in the background. "I want to hold your hand, I want to hold your hand." I couldn’t help feeling restless. I'd sat between John's legs in a less than innocent fashion because I was already feeling the effects of the humid summer night, but now, John had seduced me with that voice of his, that talent. We both sang the following verse and, as I was getting into it, I felt something grace the knuckles of my free hand. I looked down and there John's hand sat beside mine, stroking at the bits he could reach without moving much.  It sent pulses of pleasure running up my arm, down my torso and into a pit under my stomach. There, it pooled along with the small droplets of sexual tension I'd felt before being this moment actually having John's bare skin touch me, I'd wanted this all evening. My singing didn't falter despite distracted, but when John stopped singing, the surprise made me mildly go out of tune, then regained it with the gentle sound of the guitar- somehow my strumming had remained unflawed, I was proud.  The reason he'd done this was so that he could bite my earlobe and whisper,

 

"As cheesy as it sounds, I want to hold more than just your hand." That's when my voice and strumming failed all together. The pinprick pain of his teeth gently grinding on my ear made me gasp, audibly moan John's name.

We'd never done much together- in the ways of sex, that is- but that night, I so wanted to. I tightened my grip around John's hand while simultaneously allowing my other hand to fall from the guitar. John then removed the guitar all together, just for the freedom of movement and the ability to see more. Then he followed the curve of my hip, ran down the triangle of my crotch and spread his palm there, curving to my shape. I turned my head to catch a glimpse of his dark eyes, perhaps to gauge his thoughts on this, but he bit my ear again, _harder_ , to stop me. I let out a small, involuntary yelp both from that, then again when he squeezed gently at my crotch, feeling the outline of… myself… Fuck it felt good.

 

"Have you done this before…? With a guy? This in particular?" I muttered between gasps; John's hand had started doing more than just… squeezing, more than just teasing.

 

"No." He replied, laughing slightly, it was a chuckle of pleasure, "But I've done it plenty of times to myself thinking about you, Paulie. Isn't it just the same?"

 

The thought of John lying in his bed, touching himself while thinking  about me made me almost lose it. My back arched as a wave of intense pleasure took control of me and I found myself slamming my hands into John's thighs, nails digging harshly into them. He didn't seem to mind much, actually taking delight in watching me become undone in his lap by his hand. He decided to up the antics a bit by reaching into my trousers. Desperately, I helped him by ripping the zipper open so that he had more space. From then on, I remember barely being able to see. Everything was blurred as the feeling of John's hand where mine often was late at night (if I was alone) was too much for me to handle. It was all my brain could register and it took precedence over sight. I was so close to climax so quickly, but nothing would have made me stop.

 

Not even George sleepily wandering in, rubbing his eye with his fist and murmuring, "John, aren't you going to bed?" John suddenly removed his hand in an attempt to hide what we had been doing, after all, George was behind us, so he may not have seen everything. The only problem was, I was already there, already over that edge and, though I tried to stifle it, was gasping and moaning as the shockwaves ran through me. I was too far gone and it was too much to try and hide. I did not see George's face, mostly because of the pure shame that fell over me once the intensities had subsided, but even his voice told me of the surprise and confusion that was no doubt written into his expression. John got him to leave somehow, then hurried me off to bed as though nothing had happened at all.

 

I dreaded the next morning. Even when I woke up, I felt sick with shame like it had been on my mind all the way through my dreams that night. Seeing John wasn't so bad, we just exchanged looks of a more playful nature than awkward. It was George whose eyes I could not meet. However, when I did, he just smiled softly in that charming way he always did and nudged me gently with his elbow.

 

"I thought we were over our circle jerk stage." He said and I felt more than relief, I don’t even know what to call it. All I knew was that he didn’t know what John and I had been doing. Perhaps John had persuaded him that it was just us reliving our younger days. Thank God…

 

But as George left the room, he caught my eye and winked… I have no idea what to make of that.


End file.
